


The Body Count

by sodamnrad



Series: The Body Count Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Drunk Sex, Endgame Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, F/F, F/M, Gay Sex, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy Friendship, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Jealous Draco Malfoy, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson is a Good Friend, Past Draco Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pining Draco Malfoy, Protective Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Rough Sex, Slow Burn Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodamnrad/pseuds/sodamnrad
Summary: "What's your body count?""Body count?"“How many wizards have you bagged, Granger. Besides Weasley, of course.”“None besides Ron.”“Just one! But you’re twenty-four! Where’s the fun in that?”After Hermione and Ron break up, Hermione is on a mission to up her body count. With Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy as her advisors, what could possibly go wrong?DRAMIONE FANFIC | SHORT STORY/ONE SHOT
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Series: The Body Count Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155752
Comments: 31
Kudos: 231





	The Body Count

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first Dramione fanfic! I hope you like it :) 
> 
> It's pretty light-hearted but the ending does get intense. If you are triggered by rape/sexual assault please be warned that it does exist in this story. 
> 
> I use the term floo/floos often as a verb, I know that it's not an official verb. Hope that doesn't offend anyone lol 
> 
> I wrote this story because my best friend was talking to me about her body count and I thought it would make for a funny story. I've thought about the different types of one-night stands women experience and tried to make it fun and relatable. 
> 
> x
> 
> S

**MAY**

In a burst of green flames, a sobbing Hermione Granger appears in Pansy Parkinson’s living room. “It’s over!” She runs into the pretty brunette’s arms. “Ron and I are over.”

Pansy embraces the sobbing Gryffindor. “Sorry, love. It must’ve been hard for you.”

She steps away, rubbing at her tear-soaked cheeks with the back of her hand. “He said he saw it coming.” She sniffles. “But it still _hurts_.”

“I know, I know.” She rubs her bicep. “It’s alright let it out. Daph, some fire whiskey, yeah?”

Hermione hadn’t realized that Pansy had company. “Oh hello…” She says awkwardly. While she and Pansy had developed an offbeat friendship at work, realizing that badass women like themselves had to stick together, she hasn’t warmed up to any other Slytherins the same way.

“Hi Hermione.” Daphne says in a careful voice, weary of her heartbroken state. She fills a stylish tumbler with warm brown liquid from the minibar. “Bottoms up, Granger.”

* * *

“How was the sex?” Daphne asks, on her fourth glass of whiskey.

Hermione, on her fifth now and counting, is red-cheeked, a sloppy mess taking up the entire sofa and has become an open book of secrets. “It was amazing in the beginning. You know, coming off the war and knowing we saved the Wizarding World and what not…”

Daphne and Pansy exchange amused glances. Pansy rolls her eyes but watches the bushy-haired girl with fondness. The Golden Girl doesn’t gloat often and it’s fun to see it.

“…but then it just became boring. And then it started to feel like a chore.”

“Oh no.” The Slytherins say in unison.

“What’s your body count?” Daphne has become surprisingly eager to engage with Hermione. She has heard of Pansy’s newfound friendship and has been feeling left out.

“Body count?” Hermione is confused.

“How many wizards have you bagged, Granger. Besides Weasley, of course.” Pansy clarifies with a smirk, already knowing the answer.

“Oh.” Hermione downs the rest of her glass, passes it to Daphne for another. “None besides Ron.”

Daphne has gotten up to refill Granger’s glass of misery and turns in shock, “Just one! But you’re twenty-four! Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’ve been with Ron all this time…”

“You’ve been having shitty sex all this time? You poor thing.” Daphne makes sure to give her extra whiskey this time. “This needs to change.”

“Why?” Hermione sits up. “What are your _body counts_?”

The ever-poised Pansy, crosses one slender leg over the other and says with a salacious grin, “Twenty-three.”

“And yours?” Hermione asks Daphne in a weak voice.

Daphne is shooting a jealous glower at Pansy, “Seventeen. But hey, there’s time to catch up.”

Never one to be the worst at something, Hermione looks down at her knees and begins to reflect. Her thoughts are hazy, the room is spinning a little, and she’s beginning to feel the whiskey roiling in her belly. _Twenty-three_ and _seventeen_ keep popping into her head in big bolded numbers while her measly _one_ taunts her in subscript font.

“Oh, don’t look so sorry for yourself, Granger,” Pansy says, “There’s plenty of time to catch up now that you’re a single woman. Draco’s birthday is coming up in two weeks and you know that adorable brat will throw a massive rager. Practically the whole Ministry will be there and hot wizards will be aplenty. We’ll get you on your back and seeing stars in no time.”

* * *

**JUNE**

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.” Hermione passes him a bottle of vintage wine in a glittery gift bag. “Happy birthday.”

He passes the package to a waiting house elf who levitates it to a stockpile of other flashy gifts. He has outdone himself this evening, in the darkest of green robes, pale blond hair slicked back to reveal the prominence of his bone structure, and grey eyes catching the festive lights of the drawing room like a cityscape covered in thunderclouds.

Hermione was relieved to hear that Draco Malfoy’s birthday bash was being held at his own extravagant mansion. It is less than half the size of Malfoy Manor, but in comparison, her apartment is a fraction of the size of this modern-looking home.

His eyes travel over the tight, red dress and pause on her bouncy curls. Pansy took her shopping earlier this week and set her up with her personal hairstylist. “You clean up nice, Granger.”

She is stunned by the compliment. She has seen Malfoy in passing at cocktail soirees and Pansy’s birthday party, but they have never exchanged words. She wonders how much he has changed after the war. If at all.

Before she can reply, Pansy is there and grabbing her hand, “You’re finally here! Thought you were going to bail on me. Come, I am ready to wing-woman the crap out of you.”

She catches a glimpse of Malfoy’s confused expression before she is whisked away.

Hermione is all nerves and is happy to fill up on overpriced champagne. She is waxed, moisturized, and wearing skimpy lingerie beneath her dress. She knows that she will be getting laid tonight, it’s only a matter of _who_.

She floats around the room, exchanging polite banter with coworkers. They ask how Harry and Ginny are enjoying their year-long honeymoon around the globe. Wonderfully, she says. They ask how Ronald Weasley is doing. Wonderfully, she says with less enthusiasm. They open their mouths to ask another question but Pansy is there and guiding her away.

“You’re too nice, Granger.” She mutters. “You’re on a mission tonight. Stay on track!”

Lee Jordan finds her first. He is deep in his cups and ogles her openly. “Bloody hell, Hermione. Red is your colour.” He is slurring a little.

Normally, Hermione would be grimacing and creating distance. But tonight, she thinks that Jordan is as good as any other wizard in this room and he’s clearly attracted to her. So she stays and tries her hand at flirting. Pansy passes by with a pleased wink in her direction.

* * *

Oh Merlin.

Lee Jordan has the biggest penis that Hermione has ever seen in her life.

From past research she knows that this should be a good and exciting thing. But Hermione is terrified. How the hell is that supposed to _fit_. She’s going to be split open.

She takes a swig from the bottle of fire whiskey sitting on his dresser. He performs a lubricating spell on her, eyes nearly black with lust. He is very, _very_ excited below the belt. Her heart is thumping so frantically she feels like she might throw up.

He tries to get her in the mood, sloppy fingers prancing over her clit for a short while. She makes a moaning sound just to get him to stop and get on with it. He seems to think she is starving for him because he bends down and whispers, “I’m going to give it to you so good, Granger.”

She makes a strange noise, somewhere between a whimper and a moan and then – _holy mother of Merlin it hurts_. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

He is panting above her. She is whimpering below all the while wondering if this is the mind-blowing sex Pansy and Daphne have been going on about. This feels like a punishment for sleeping with someone so soon after her breakup.

She is thankful when he finishes and passes out beside her. _I can’t believe I got waxed for this_.

She hurries to gather her things, throws her clothes back on, tosses her hair into a bun because now it is completely ruined, and splashes water over her face to mellow the flush across her cheeks. She looks thoroughly fucked but she feels thoroughly screwed.

It hurts a little to walk.

She needs to see Pansy.

* * *

Malfoy’s birthday party is on its last legs when she arrives. Pansy wasn’t at her apartment so she assumes she is here. Unless Pansy found a wizard to keep her company for the evening… damn it, she didn’t even think of that. She is about to turn around and floo back home when a voice calls “Granger?”

Bollocks. She turns slowly, “Uh, hello again… is Pansy here?”

Malfoy has discarded his jacket and has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. His hair isn’t as perfectly coiffed as before, a few strands falling over his eyes now. “Yeah, you alright?” He’s looking her up and down carefully. She feels the flush all the way down to her toes. Can Malfoy tell what she was up to just before this?

“Perfectly fine.” She squeaks, resisting the urge to fan her dress collar back and forth for air.

He leads her through the house and into the basement. There’s a pool table, a full bar and a lounging area where Pansy is reclining comfortably, nursing a tumbler of whiskey. “Hermione.” She straightens at her appearance. “What are you doing back?” Her eyes are falling over Hermione’s figure too, and she smirks widely as she takes in her rumpled appearance. “How was it? Tell me everything!”

“Pansy!” Hermione yelps, shooting Malfoy a cautious look.

“Oh, it’s just Draco, he doesn’t care. Besides it might be nice to get a male perspective on everything.”

“What don’t I care about?” He joins Pansy on the couch. “Help yourself to whatever you want at the bar, Granger.”

“Some host,” She grumbles to herself as she finds what looks like the most expensive-looking bottle of booze behind the bar and pours herself a double shot.

“Granger is upping her body count.” Pansy tells him.

“Pansy!” She cries in outrage. 

Draco chokes on his drink. Oh Merlin... She knew her friendship with Pansy would backfire somehow.

“Ease up.” Pansy tells them both. “You’re acting like such _prudes_. We’re not sneaking around the Hogwarts’ dorms here. Tell us what happened with Jordan.”

“Lee Jordan?” Malfoy swivels around to pin her with a disbelieving look. “That blabbermouth?”

“He’s hot.” Pansy shushes him. “How was it, Hermione? Do tell.”

She downs the expensive liquor in two gulps and winces. Fine, if they want to hear about it, she’ll tell them. Malfoy can just stuff it, that judgy piece of swine. Let him be subject to hearing all about Hermione Granger’s sexual conquests.

“This information doesn’t leave this room.” She says sternly, filling the glass again. She sways a little to the armchair where the Slytherins are sitting. She folds her legs beside her on the seat, getting as comfortable as she can in the suffocating dress. “His dick was too big.”

Pansy bursts into a fit of giggles. Malfoy’s eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bobs visibly. From the information? Or because he never expected Hermione Granger to say something like that in his presence, or ever?

“Jordan has a big dick? Damn! I got to hit him up.” Pansy is absolutely thrilled. “As long as you don’t mind, of course.”

“You can have him.” She says dismissively. “It was awful. It barely fit and it hurt so badly. I think I’m too… tight.”

Malfoy is absolutely red at this point, his gaze focused on something fascinating behind Hermione’s shoulder. She notices that his breathing has become shallow. “I take it you and Weasel are no more?” He says in a low voice, surprisingly even despite his countenance.

“Old news, Draco.” Pansy waves him off. “Who would’ve thought Hermione Granger couldn’t handle a big penis.”

“Shut up!” She feels the urge to throw her glass at Pansy’s head. “He was only the second person after Ron, okay? Not all of us have hit the twenty mark.”

“What is it the two of you are up to exactly?” Malfoy takes a swig of his drink and relaxes against his seat, crossing one leg over the other.

“Granger is on a sexual journey.” Pansy answers for her, “She’s only been in one miserable sexual relationship with Weasley and he didn’t do it for her. It’s time she experiments and enjoys the thrill of her twenties.”

“Everything have to be a research project, Granger?” Malfoy is smirking now. “Must say, I do find this one quite interesting. I’ll take the role of male advisor. You were likely not horny enough and weren’t able to… handle Jordan.”

“He used a lubricating spell.” She can’t believe she is having this conversation with him.

“Still, that only goes so far,” He replies. “Was there foreplay?”

“Not really…” She admits. The moment they’d reached his flat he was ripping her clothes off and whispering dirty things into her ear.

Malfoy says, “Try building it up next time, see if it helps.”

* * *

**JULY**

After three weeks of cheeky missives owled back and forth to one another, Hermione is on Anthony Goldstein’s lap with his hands up her shirt and his tongue down her throat. She has tried to take it slow with the letters and instead of rushing to his bedroom, they are snogging in his living room on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

But Merlin he’s a sloppy kisser.

She can feel dribble below her lower lip, trickling down her chin. He tastes odd too, like black licorice and chocolate. She keeps her eyes shut thinking about foreplay. How can she get herself in the mood?

She begins to grind against him, feeling his excitement build in his trousers. He makes a groaning sound in her mouth. She tries to pull back for air but his fingers are deep in her curls, keeping their lips locked. His tongue is like a skittish hamster, constantly twisting and turning. It’s distracting and she tries not to grimace.

He begins to stand with her in his arms, walking them to his bedroom next door. Was this enough foreplay? Is she ready? Damn it, what if it hurts again? It took an entire week for the soreness from her rump with Jordan to fade.

He drops her on the bed and begins to divest her of her t-shirt. His wet mouth presses kisses on her chest as his hands reach behind her back to unclasp her bra. Her nipples are utterly smooth, no trace of desire to be found. She takes his shirt off because she figures she has to.

They continue this way, wet kisses and discarded clothes until they are pressed against one another and Goldstein has parted her legs and casted a contraception charm on her pelvis.

* * *

“Pansy said we might be expecting you.” Malfoy greets her in the drawing room. “I’ll set another seat at the table.” He leads her to the dining room. Not quite as ostentatious as the one at Malfoy Manor but chic with a chandelier that looks more like an art installment, and an eight-person dining table now set for three. 

Hermione sits across from Pansy and Malfoy takes his place at the head of the table. There is a miniature feast of roasted vegetables, grilled chicken and colourful salads spread out before them. She fills her plate greedily, starving after the too-long visit at Goldstein’s. It had taken the blond far too long to finish and Hermione faked it the entire time. It’s tiring to feign two orgasms.

Malfoy and Pansy are watching her with twin expressions on their faces. “What happened?” Pansy asks first.

“He’s a horrible kisser. Felt like I was drowning the whole time.” She huffs, stuffing her face with green beans. “I tried the foreplay thing with brazen letters and we snogged for too long in his living room beforehand but ugh it was terrible!”

Draco is smirking, watching her pig out with no social decorum. If Narcissa or Lucius were present they’d be having an absolute aneurism right now.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourself!” She snaps at him. “I was taking _your_ advice in the first place.”

“Not my fault Goldstein snogs like a leaky faucet.” He replies with too much delight. He grunts in pain and Hermione suspects Pansy kicked him under the table.

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way. What if you hooked up with someone you’ve already been attracted to? That might help.” Pansy suggests. “We’ll get you to that screaming O, Granger. No worries, that’s what your twenties are all about.”

“You keep saying that.” She grumbles, “But so far my twenties have been absolutely pathetic.”

“Oh, come now, Granger, it’s not all about shagging. Pansy tells me you’re doing an alright job at work. And you finally ditched the Weasel which I think is an accomplishment in of itself. You were too smart for him.”

“Insulting one of my best friends isn’t helping, Malfoy.” She glowers but wonders when Draco Malfoy started to become comfortable paying her compliments. First at his birthday, and again now. Maybe it was because Pansy held her in such high esteem.

* * *

**AUGUST**

“So lovely to be reunited with you, Hermy.” Viktor toasts his glass of red wine against hers. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

She blushes, “So have I but you know this is just casual, right? I only broke up with Ron a couple of months ago and I don’t want another relationship at the moment.”

“I see.” He grows tense. Hermione can’t help but admire the sheer mass of him. She always went weak in the knees for Quidditch players. “If that is the case, lovely girl, I must say that I am not a…how you say it… _conventional_ … lover.”

“How do you mean?” She frowns.

* * *

She is handcuffed to his bed, completely bare and open for him. The way his eyes roam across every inch of her body makes her twitch with discomfort. The window is open and a midnight breeze drifts into the room, turning her nipples into twin peaks.

He has a dripping candle in his hand and slowly pours the hot wax across her stomach. She flinches and the cuffs bite into her skin. The wind hardens the wax. He repeats the action across her breasts and then lower where it is particularly sensitive.

She thinks she can trust him but there’s something in the back of her mind screaming to get out. Who allows a man they barely know to handcuff them to a bed? Of course, they are friends and have spent time together in the past. But she doesn’t know him that well… _this_ well.

“Relax.” He breathes into her ear. “Just feel.”

She feels afraid. She feels intimidated. She feels like this was a horrible idea.

“What’s wrong, Hermy?” His eyes are full of concern as he wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

“I-I don’t want to do this.” She sniffles. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe her body count can stay meager and low. She wants to have a sexual awakening but it has backfired every time. She begins to cry in earnest, big sobs and shaking tremors.

Viktor quickly frees her of the cuffs, pressing kisses on her reddened wrists. “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s o-okay.” She says, rushing to gather her things. “I’m the one that should be s-s-orry.” She hiccups. “This was my m-mistake.” She kisses him on the cheek and apparates.

* * *

For the second time in her life, Hermione Granger appears in Pansy Parkinson’s living room a sobbing mess. She is relieved that Pansy is by herself, a magazine in hand and a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. Thank Merlin that Pansy is a night owl.

“What’s wrong?” She pulls Hermione into a tight embrace. “What happened?”

She blubbers the events of the evening into Pansy’s shoulders. “I’m so mortified.” She says in a small voice. “I don’t think I can ever speak to him again.”

“Shh,” Pansy strokes Hermione’s frizzy hair. “Nonsense. You have every right to change your mind. Don’t put yourself down. You weren’t ready for something like that, you’re alright.”

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore, Pansy. It hasn’t been working out.”

“That’s alright, Granger. Nobody expects you to, I was teasing most of the time anyway. Have a seat, I’ll fetch you a cup of tea.”

* * *

**SEPTEMBER**

He brought another woman to her birthday party.

“Granger, are you alright?” Pansy has just arrived, Draco Malfoy a couple of steps behind her. They are both watching Ron buy a drink for Lavender Brown at the bar.

“Get me blistering drunk.” She tells them, leading them to the opposite end of the bar as far from Ron and Lavender as possible.

Malfoy and Pansy buy her drinks all night long. The alcohol loosens her up, allowing her to dance rhythmically to the music and appreciate the looks the nearby wizards have been shooting her. She’d told herself that she didn’t care about her body count anymore but seeing Ron with _her_ has fired her up.

“You look like an angry angel, Granger.” Malfoy smirks, taking a seat next to her at the bar. His eyes are following the lines of her bare legs all the way to the silver stilettos Pansy lent her. She is in a tight white top and matching mini skirt. She is turning twenty-five and thinks that she ought to look sexy on this particular day. Pansy’s hairstylist has worked his magic on her once again, wrangling her hair into a half-up half-down style, loose curls falling to her mid-back.

“Why did he even come if he was going to bring her?” She asks, eyes falling on the red-head boy again. He and Lavender look cozy in a booth. Arms around one another, gazing sickeningly into each other’s eyes.

“Because he’s a piece of shit.” He replies without having to look. “Screw him, Granger. You were always too good for that hand-me-down Weasel.”

His twenties have done Malfoy’s face justice. He is more angular now, losing any boyish roundness that he once had. His hair is styled back again, the way he does it when he’s attending a nice event. And his clothes are tailored and stylish, highlighting the lithe lines of his figure. When they meet eyes, she feels a tug at the base of her belly.

“Are you still working on that research project?” He raises a blond brow. He motions for the bartender to fetch them two drinks.

Her lower lip pouts out further than the upper and Malfoy stares at the movement. “I decided to stop but now…” She risks another glance at Ron and winces, “I reckon I shall resume.” She downs the new drink the bartender has given her before Malfoy has finished paying for it.

“Hi Hermione.” A grinning Cormac McLaggen taps her on the shoulder. “I hear it’s your birthday.” His eyes are glued to her chest.

She offers him a wobbly grin, “Hi Cormac. Yes, it is.”

“Happy birthday then.” His gaze has shifted to her thighs. “Would you like to dance with me?”

She shoots Malfoy a knowing grin, Body Count project officially back on. Only, he is looking at McLaggen like he wants to hex him with a slew of Unforgivables. What’s his problem? He didn’t even look at Ron like that and he’s been shooting Ron dirty looks all evening.

“Thanks for the drink, Malfoy.” She brushes his arm with her shoulder as she stands, following Cormac to the dance floor.

* * *

“I am so sorry, Hermione.” Cormac McLaggan is red in the face and screwing his eyes shut in despair. “Fuck, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Uh… no problem.” She stands awkwardly, tugging her clothes back on. “Don’t worry, you must have had too much to drink.” What a shitty, awful, terrible, horrible birthday. Damn it.

“Yeah, shit. Sorry. I’m so sorry.” He falls onto his back, covering his face with his hands. His penis completely flaccid and uncooperative. “It’s not you, I swear. You’re fucking hot. I want to I swear.”

“It’s fine.” She’s thankful he’s not looking at her because she thinks she might cry. She refuses to cry in another man’s bed. “I think I’ll just go.”

She apparates home as he’s mid-apology.

* * *

**OCTOBER**

“What’s wrong with me, Pans?” Hermione is lying on her friend’s couch, moping. “McLaggan couldn’t even get it up!”

A male snort answers and Hermione looks up in surprise. Draco Malfoy has apparated just in time to hear the last part of her sentence. “He couldn’t get it up? What a wanker.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” She shoots him a hard glare. “As if that’s never happened to you.”

“It hasn’t.”

She makes another miserable noise, “What’s wrong with me. Is my hair so awful? Maybe I’ve gained weight…”

“Shut up, Granger.” Malfoy is surprisingly stern. “That sounds like a him problem not a you problem. What is with you women taking everything so personally?”

Pansy kisses him on the cheek in form of greeting. “Draco’s right. You just need to get back on the broom.”

“I didn’t say that.” He mutters hotly, plopping down on an armchair.

Pansy shoots him an odd look. “Come to The Three Broomsticks with us tonight. We’ll find you a man to pound you silly.”

Malfoy looks like he’s about to revoke the invitation when Pansy takes her arm and leads her to the bedroom. “Let’s get you changed and looking like the sexy, little witch you are.”

* * *

At first Hermione had thought it was awfully convenient that The Three Broomsticks was an inn and that they didn’t have to go very far.

But then she realizes that they might as well have snuck into a closet to do the deed because Ernie Macmillan lasts all of three minutes.

Body count (including Ron): four, Orgasms (not including Ron): 0

* * *

**NOVEMBER**

“My, my Granger. You are absolutely delicious in green.” Malfoy greets her with an obvious scan of her person.

He is hosting yet another bash at his Draco Mansion. He recently acquired a Potions business and they are celebrating. Both a publicity stunt and an excuse for a good time. Hermione was surprised to have received a personal invite instead of being Pansy’s plus one. 

She has come wearing an emerald green pantsuit, leaving her hair wild and loose. The way Draco is looking at her makes it hard to swallow. Maybe she chose this specific outfit just to watch his reaction.

“I aim to please, Malfoy.” She teases, realizing that she feels oddly comfortable around him now. Although when you discuss your sex life with someone as often as she does with Malfoy, it is hard not to.

He grabs her arm just as she is leaving the drawing room, “My boys are off limits, Granger.”

“Slytherin was never my type.”

His grey eyes fall to her mouth. Is it just her or has he stepped closer? Before she can analyze the look in his eyes, he releases her arm and strides back to the fireplace to greet the next newcomer.

She finds Pansy with Daphne and greets them both with double cheek kisses. “Take shots with us.” Daphne says, amicable after that drunken, post-Ron breakup.

They take advantage of Malfoy’s open bar and take two shots in a row. Hermione notices a pretty blonde looking at her. “Who is that?” She asks Pansy in a low voice.

Pansy follows her gaze and grins coquettishly, “Jennifer Holiday, she’s a musician. Looks like she can’t take her eyes off you.”

Hermione’s cheeks heat, “You think that she wants me like _that_?”

“Why not, Granger?” Pansy looks her over slowly, “You’re hot. Doesn’t hurt to experiment a little. All the men have been thorough disasters, maybe you’ve been missing a woman’s touch.” She shoves Hermione in the blonde’s direction. “Good luck.”

* * *

They stay at Draco’s house and find an empty guest room. Jennifer’s lipstick has spread all over Hermione’s mouth. She smells like candy floss and vodka. The women are about the same height and it’s easy for their hands to wander as their lips lock. She is a tremendous kisser. Gentle and sweet but sexy enough to make Hermione’s heart pound.

Her hands shake a little as she discards Jennifer of her cocktail dress. She has never done this before. “Relax.” Jennifer tells her between kisses down the column of her neck. “We’ll take it slow.”

They leave a trail of clothing to the large bed, where Jennifer pulls Hermione’s thong off with her teeth. Her breath against her core is warm and makes her tingle. Jennifer’s tongue on her clit makes Hermione’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She moans loudly. The woman knows her way around the female anatomy, which is no surprise. She makes Hermione squirm and scream, the novelty and the booze helping enhance every sensation.

When Hermione comes, Jennifer kisses her offering her a taste of herself. They snog while Hermione’s nervous fingers discard Jennifer’s bra. She cups her breast, feeling the weight of it in her palm. She presses kisses down the woman’s slender neck and pops her nipple into her mouth, tasting her. This must be how men feel when they are with women. She likes being on the other side. It’s exciting and new and makes her feel particularly naughty.

She returns the favour, licking and fingering the blonde until she is shaking beneath her. They make out again, rubbing their bodies against one another in a frantic rhythm. They are a jumble of limbs and a symphony of soft noise. The party continues below, the tinkering sound of chatter and the melody of jazz music reaching their ears.

“You are beautiful.” Jennifer kisses her a final time before standing to get dressed. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Hermione.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Hermione replies, lying in bed a few moments longer. _Finally._

She uses the joined bathroom to clean herself. It has only been an hour or two since the women went upstairs. The night is far from over. Hermione is beaming as her heels clack against the marble stairs, returning to the hustle and bustle down below.

Malfoy is at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed. “What have you been doing up there?” He looks very suspicious, and keeps looking over her shoulder as if waiting for someone to follow.

She begins to giggle.

His eyes widen as if she has gone mad. “Granger, what the hell has gotten into you?”

Pansy arrives then, noticing the glee in her eyes. “Oh my God. She made you come! Didn’t she? You are such a minx, Granger. I am so fucking proud.”

“She?” Draco looks flabbergasted.

Pansy takes him by the shoulders and turns him in the direction of the hallway where a few of the guests are mingling. She points at Jennifer, perfectly poised with a flute of champagne in hand, laughing at something Kingsley Shacklebolt has just said, “Her.”

Malfoy turns to Hermione, his eyes are almost black, “She made you come?”

“Yes.” Hermione sighs, remembering it. “It’s been _months_. Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

He swallows visibly, “Could’ve invited me, wouldn’t have minded watching.”

“Shut up, Draco.” Pansy slaps him across the chest teasingly.

“Are you done with men?” He asks. “Now that you’ve had a taste of something different?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I want to do that again. I want to let tonight be its own moment and never sully it with other memories. It was perfect.”

Pansy is shooting her a delighted look, “Are you in love, Granger?”

“Maybe.” She replies, eyes falling on the back of Jennifer’s blonde head. She is still feeling high off her orgasm. “I don’t even think Ron has made me come that hard.”

Draco makes a noise from the back of his throat.

Pansy says, “You are positively glowing. Will you be owling her?”

“No, it’s not like that,” She says, “I don’t want to be in a relationship with a woman. I think I’ll always want that battle of male and female energy. With the right man I think the sex will be explosive. Especially knowing that I can feel that way.”

Her eyes meet Draco’s and he is watching her so intensely she thinks she might break out into a sweat.

* * *

**DECEMBER**

Every year, her parents host a holiday party for their staff and patients. Hermione is wearing a modest, red dress and has her hair up in a pristine bun. She is polite and welcoming, socializing with Muggles that she doesn’t often see.

She is introduced to a young man named Jason who has been making eyes at her all evening. He is tall and broad, with dark hair and eyes. He has a lovely smile, courtesy of Dr. and Dr. Granger. He makes easy conversation with her, asking about her work (she says she works in foreign affairs for the government), asking if she tried the delicious stuffing, and finally asking if she has a boyfriend. When she replies that she doesn’t, the energy shifts between them.

He becomes touchier, brushing a loose curl behind her ear, pressing a hand to the base of her spine to lead her to the refreshment table, wiping a smear of chocolate from the corner of her mouth after a bite of chocolate covered strawberry.

He has driven here and wonders if she wants to leave with him. She agrees and he takes her on a drive around town. They stop at a cliffside with a pretty view and she sits between his legs on the hood of the car, with his arms around her. They look at the stars and the town lights, wrapped up in each other’s heat.

He takes her home after and they shag. She doesn’t come but it’s still a nice experience because he is trying, and he is gentle, and he lasts longer than three minutes. His eyes are very soft as he looks at her. “You are lovely.” He says, tracing the shape of her mouth with a fingertip. “Can I see you again?”

Oh no. This was supposed to be a one-night stand. “I don’t live here anymore.” 

“Maybe we could make it work.” He turns on his stomach, holding himself on his forearms. “We can meet up on weekends. Long distance relationships aren’t unheard of.”

“You’re great, Jason… but I’m not really looking for a serious relationship.”

He looks devastated, “Oh, I see.”

Hermione is instantly uncomfortable and feels the urge to leave. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that you weren’t thinking the same thing…”

“You’re my dentist’s daughter, I wasn’t looking to shag you and not call in the morning.”

Shit. “Sorry.” She replies again, meekly. Sitting up to leave. “I should go.” She scurries to gather her things, reluctant to look at his glum face. She hadn’t meant to hurt the poor Muggle.

“I’ll drive you.” He says quietly.

“No, no, I can uh… I can take a cab.” She yanks her stockings back on. “It was uh… nice to meet you, Jason. So sorry.” Oh, the mortification.

* * *

**JANUARY**

Pansy is practically on the floor rolling in laughter. “Oh, Granger, you have the worst luck!”

“Shut up.” She glares. “How was I supposed to know the poor bloke wanted a relationship? How was your Christmas?”

“Speaking of relationships, I have news.” She grins. “Blaise Zabini and I have started dating.”

“That’s great, Pans. I’m so happy for you.” She means it. Pansy has been alone for too long. “How does Malfoy feel about that?”

“Why should Draco care?”

“He told me to stay away from his boys at his party back in November.”

“He did?” Pansy seems very interested by this tidbit of news. “Curious…” 

“Have you and him ever… you know?” She doesn’t know why she cares but she has wondered for a while. They are so close, and even though their relationship is platonic now, she can’t help but think it wasn’t always.

“We lost our virginity to each other.” She admits. “But it never went beyond Hogwarts. He makes a better best friend than lover.”

“Why? Is he bad in bed?” Merlin knows she’s had her fair share of male disappointments these past few months. Shame to think Malfoy falls into that category.

“We were teenagers, Granger.” Pansy is smirking. “Nobody knows what they’re doing at school. But it wasn’t that. I imagine he’s quite good in bed now. He and Daph’s little sister had a fling for a minute last year and she won’t stop blubbering about how much she misses him.”

When? She almost asks. Draco has been in her life, sort of, since June. Was he seeing Astoria Greengrass during that time? She doesn’t know why the thought bothers her so much. She asks a different question, “So if the sex wasn’t bad then why?”

“We’re too alike.” She replies. “It would be like living with yourself. I need a challenge, you know? Someone I can have real arguments with and fiery makeup sex after.”

“And Zabini does that for you?”

“Does he ever.”

* * *

She is moaning and her climax is reaching a crescendo and-and-and “Oh Merlin!” She screams, seeing white. Her toes have curled, fingernails creating a work of bloody art on the expanse of Oliver Wood’s back.

They’d bumped into one another at Flourish and Blotts. He flirted with her, talking about her bookish ways and how he always thought she was the cutest girl in her year. Another Quidditch player with a muscular build, and a dominance to him that turned her on.

She falls asleep in his arms, recognising how much she missed this feeling.

She blinks awake to sunlight and rumpled sheets. Oliver is at his desk, reading a book with a mug of coffee on the table that she can smell from where she lies. “Good morning.” She says with a satisfied smile, stretching like Crookshanks.

“Morning.” He shoots her a curt look.

She frowns, suddenly self-conscious of the fact that she’s naked while he’s fully clothed and barely looking at her. “What are you reading?” She asks just for something to say.

He sighs, “Are we doing this, Granger?”

“Doing what?”

“The morning after thing? It was nice to see you again but I have a busy day today and I didn’t plan on entertaining anyone…”

Wow. Alright then. She scurries up and pulls on yesterday’s clothes. He blew her mind last night and now he’s kicking her out without a second look. She feels cheap and swallows back tears. This was obviously not going to develop into a relationship. She might not have said no if he’d offered to take her out but she hadn’t been expecting it to become anything serious.

But this…

She gathers her things and floos back home without another word.

* * *

**FEBRUARY**

“Could I ask you something?”

He makes a noise of assent, eyes glued on the potion he is brewing. Hermione is jealous that Draco Malfoy has a Potion’s Lab in his house.

Pansy is supposed to be here but she hasn’t arrived yet and Draco tells her it’s because she arrived two hours early. She thought she was meant to be over for dinner at six but it was actually at eight. It seems as if the ink had smudged on her letter and she’d misread the timing.

“What do you do when you want to get rid of a woman the morning after?”

He shoots her an irritated look, “Having trouble kicking your conquests out of your home?”

“You put in the wrong amount of bursting mushrooms.”

He glares at her, “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.” He proceeds with the brewing; he stares at his concoction and when nothing happens shoots her a fiery look before adding more mushrooms. The potion turns blue.

She smirks.

“I wasn’t kicking anyone out.” She continues, realizing just how easy conversing with Malfoy has become. “I was the one who…”

He looks up at her, taking note of her sullen expression. “Why do you do that to yourself?”

“Do what?”

“You put yourself in these situations, Granger. Just admit that it’s not who you are. Nobody has even made you come except for that Holiday woman and you said yourself that you weren’t interested in women.”

“He did make me come.”

He pauses. A muscle in his jaw clenches. “Is that so.”

“Yes, so when he all but kicked me out the next morn-”

“I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore,” He interrupts her, he is glaring at the potion like it has committed a personal crime against him. “If you are putting yourself in situations where you allow gits to shag you and kick you out the next day maybe you’re asking for it.”

“I am not!” She replies indignantly. But wonders maybe if she is… “I never stay long enough anyway. It’s just that it was the first time a man has made me co-”

“What the fuck did I just say, Granger? Stop. Talking. To. Me. About. This.”

“Alright.” She looks away. “Who pissed in your potion, Malfoy. For Merlin’s sake.”

* * *

“R-Ron? What are you doing here?”

He strides up to her and kisses her on the mouth in the middle of her tiny living room. “Missed you so fucking much, Mione.”

“Ron, what’s wrong?” She pulls away, noting the tear tracks that have dried on his pale cheeks.

“Nothing.” He lies, kissing her again. “I need you. Please.”

It is Valentine’s Day and the last person she thought she’d see today was Ronald Weasley. Yet here he is, pushing her into the bedroom and pulling off her cozy pyjamas. She is gone with a single glimpse into his light blue eyes. She has missed him. Missed this familiarity. Missed knowing that she was with someone who loved her and wouldn’t kick her out the next day.

He makes a desperate kind of love to her. Burying his tearstained face in the nook of her shoulder and taking what he needs from her body. He is hurt and broken and she’d give anything to make him whole again. Even when he finishes without making her come.

Hermione Granger and all the missing O’s.

“I’m so lonely, Mione.” He says once they’re wrapped up in one another’s arms, like old times. “I think about you all the time.”

“What happened with Lavender?” She tries to keep the bitter edge from her tone. But he brought her to Hermione’s birthday only months after their breakup. And then Cormac fucking McLaggen couldn’t even get it up.

“We broke up a month ago.” He answers, pulling her back to the present. “She wasn’t you, anyway. I miss your mind, I miss the way you always nag me about keeping my things everywhere, I miss you pushing me to be a better person.”

She sighs deeply, “I miss you too, Ron.” But she misses their friendship. Harry has been gone since last May and she misses her best friends. Nothing is the same anymore.

“Could I stay tonight?” He is looking at her with a fragility that she hasn’t seen before.

“Yes.” She replies tiredly. “But this doesn’t change anything, Ron. I-I don’t think we should get back together.” Oddly, she thinks of Draco Malfoy. If he were here, he’d tell her she was putting herself in another pitiful situation. Another man that can’t make her come. Another awkward moment she’ll have to face in the morning. She never makes it easy on herself. 

He sits up, “Why not?”

“There’s a reason we didn’t work before, Ron. I miss your friendship, and I want to see you again. But not like this. This is the last time.”

He sighs deeply, “It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”

“What?” She is shocked. Did he just read her mind?

“Don’t play coy with me, Mione.” He runs a hand through his sweaty, red hair. “I saw the way he was looking at you at your birthday. And the snarky comment he made at me and Lav.”

“What snarky comment?”

“Something about hand-me-downs and how I’ve never learned to take care of my things. I didn’t get it before but it makes sense now. Are you spreading your legs for Draco fucking Malfoy?”

She slaps him across the face. “Get the hell out, Ronald Weasley. Don’t you ever talk to me that way again.”

“You are! How could you? After everything? He still calls me Weasel, and you think that’s okay? He’s a piece of shit, Hermione.”

“There’s nothing going on between Draco and me.” She is red with rage. “But if there was it wouldn’t be any of _your_ damned business! Get. Out.”

* * *

**MARCH**

“Sickening, aren’t they?” Malfoy shoots her a sidelong glance from where he’s sitting next to her on the sofa.

“Very.” She replies with a grin, eyes falling on Blaise and Pansy wrapped up in each other on the lounger.

“Would you like a drink?” He stands.

“Yes, but I’m coming with you.” She follows him to the bar in his basement. She perches on a stool while Draco walks around the bar.

He pulls out a few bottles and pours contents into a cocktail shaker. “You in the mood for something citrusy?”

“Sure.” She watches his arms as he shakes the ingredients. The veins on his forearms protrude a little, and he has long and slender fingers. Ron’s words repeat in her mind. How was he looking at her at her birthday? He always looks at her the same way. Not quite with discontentment but a dark intensity that makes her squirm if she stares too long. 

He pours the mixture into a tumbler and garnishes it with a lemon wheel and a sprig of mint. “Gin a la Malfoy.” He is smiling.

She smiles back and takes a careful sip. “Your potions skills might be questionable but you’re not a terrible mixologist.”

He scoffs, “I was just as good as you in Potions.”

“So, what are you doing now? What is your official job title?”

“I own a few companies and am a silent investor in a few others. I suppose I don’t have one specific title,” He replies. “I didn’t want a job at the Ministry. I’m happy to host parties and play nice but I couldn’t stand the judgemental stares if I worked there. People haven’t forgotten everything that happened, you know?”

She nods in understanding. Lucius received a lifelong prison sentence for his part in the Wizarding War and Narcissa is on indefinite house arrest at Malfoy Manor. Draco was let off easy because he’d changed course near the end of the battle, and because Harry had been willing to testify on his behalf. She was glad for it, despite what happened to her in his family drawing room that horrible day. It hadn’t been his fault and they would’ve killed him for interfering.

He seems to know where her mind has drifted because he says, “I have nightmares about that day, you know.”

She doesn’t have to ask which day he is referring to. She doesn’t say anything because she still has nightmares too and doesn’t feel sorry for him.

“I wish I did more,” He continues. “I was afraid and a coward. Nothing would have happened to you if it had been up to me, Granger. If anything like that happens again… I’d act differently. I promise I would.”

“I believe you.” She says in a low voice, taking a careful sip of her drink.

His hand finds hers across the bar. Her breath catches in her throat. “I mean it, Hermione.” It might be the first time he has ever said her name. “I’ll never let anything like that happen to you again.”

* * *

“Yes, yes, yes.” Her head is hitting the headboard. She has never been pounded this hard. The man above her is firm muscle but with a soft layer over his skin that comes with age. His heavy balls are slapping against her cunt, making a loud slapping noise.

“So fucking tight.” He groans in her ear, pushing deeper. “Gorgeous, little witch.”

They met at the bar. She was feeling lonely and needed a drink after work. He bought her one, even though he was old enough to be her father. He’s a silver fox. Attractive despite being twice her age. She’s never been with an older man and figures now is as good a time as any.

She comes screaming, turned on by the novelty of being with an older man but also the precision of his shagging. Experience really is everything, she realizes. It takes longer for him to come and his fingers dance over her clit until she is screaming again.

She doesn’t stick around to cuddle afterwards and he doesn’t seem to want her to, either. She didn’t sleep with him for the sentimentality. Thank Merlin he made her come. Twice.

Body Count (including Ron): 7 Orgasm Count (not including Ron): 4

* * *

**APRIL**

It’s Pansy Parkinson’s birthday and of course she is throwing the biggest party of the year. Blaise has generously offered to host it at his mansion and the house elves have outdone themselves with the decorations and feasts of food.

Pansy is wearing a slinky silver dress, with an open back and thin straps. Her skin sparkles under the glittering chandeliers and her eye makeup is heavy and very sultry. Hermione notices that Blaise is by her side the entire evening.

There are so many people present that she doesn’t recognize more than half the crowd. It seems like the entire Wizarding World has been invited this evening. The drawing room is overflowing with gifts for her. Hermione is uncertain how they will all fit in Pansy’s flat.

“I like your hair like that.” Malfoy has found her first even though she might have been looking for him. She hasn’t been able to get the conversation at his house out of her head.

She pats a hand against her untamed curls, she’s done absolutely nothing to them besides a deep conditioning potion before a wash. Pansy’s hairstylist was obviously fully booked this evening. Her eyes run over his slicked back hair and navy-blue dress robes. He is a full head taller than her even when she is wearing heels. “You look handsome.” She says, a compliment for a compliment.

His grey eyes sparkle, “Fancy a glass of champagne?” He gestures towards the champagne tower down the courtyard steps. She loops her arm through his offered one and they walk together. She is wearing a lavender dress with a long slit at the leg and a v-collar. Her lingerie drawer has been stocked to the brim this past year and she had the perfect push-up bra to wear under this dress.

He hands her a flute of champagne and they clink glasses. The champagne tower is enclosed by rows of juicy strawberries and she takes a bite of one. Draco stares at her mouth. She has never been more conscious of chewing in her life.

He smells delightful, like midnight and pure alpha male. It’s an aftershave or cologne he reserves for special occasions only. Sometimes that scent follows her to bed when she is lying alone and playing with herself.

A moment of silence passes and they both begin to speak at the same time. They both stop. She laughs. “You first.”

“I was only going to say that you seemed rather lonely without your gang of Gryffindors.”

“Harry and Ginny are coming home in a month.” She replies, excitedly. “Besides, I don’t know if all the house politics matter anymore. Pansy has become my closest friend.”

“I’ve noticed.” He is smiling at her in a gentle way that she has never seen on his face before. It softens his features and makes him rather pretty. “What were you about to say?”

“I was going to thank y-”

She is interrupted by a busty female, reaching between them for a glass of champagne. “Excuse me.” She says, brushing her chest against Draco’s front. He steps away but the woman is looking at him now, standing between him and Hermione. “Are you Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes, I am.” He answers shortly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hear that you run Malfoy Holdings and I think you have done such a wonderful job since-”

Hermione walks away. She knows when someone is coming onto him and doesn’t want to get in the way. Even with the sweetness of the strawberry on her tongue, Hermione feels bitter. She pushes her way through the crowd to fetch a stronger drink at the bar.

“I’ll have whatever this pretty lady is having.” A man next to her tells the bartender. He has an American accent. “What’s your name?” He asks, dimples forming on either cheek when he smiles.

“Hermione Granger.” She shakes his hand.

“Matthew Jackson, pleased to meet you.”

With drinks in hand, they drift away from the bar to a quieter corner to talk. Matthew is from New York and works for MACUSA. He is visiting on business. His accent turns her on a little, especially after a few glasses of gin.

At one point, she spots Draco with the woman from earlier. She is clinging to him like he’ll vanish otherwise. His eyes are already on Hermione and she feels a pang of jealousy seeing him with another woman. How silly of her.

Matthew draws her attention back to him, “Have you ever been to America?”

“No, I haven’t.” She replies, tearing her eyes off a pair of startling grey eyes.

“Well, you’ll definitely have to visit someday.” He tells her with a heavy implication in his tone. “I can show you around Manhattan.”

“That sounds lovely.” She says but her heart isn’t in it.

He leads her to the dancefloor at one point. He is a smooth dancer and holds her in all the right places. His dimples and dirty blond hair are growing on her. She likes the way he says her name _Her-mine-ee_. She stops searching for navy blue robes and white blond hair.

“You want to come over tonight?” He whispers hotly in her ear. His hand is on the small of her back, other hand below her jaw. He smells like spice and warmth, and makes her blood run hot. She agrees with a small nod.

* * *

“Oh fuck.” He is groaning, head thrown back in absolute bliss. “Fuuuuck.” Her mouth is wrapped around his cock, he has her hair in a pile in his hands, guiding her up and down. “You are so fucking hot.”

Her spit gurgles and drips down her chin. He tastes salty and a little bitter. She is trying her hardest not to gag but it becomes especially hard as he pushes her deeper onto him. His face has turned a deep red and he is becoming more and more vocal.

She wants him to fuck her because all she can think of is a certain blond with grey eyes and how she wishes it was him. She wants to forget her idiotic heart. No, not her heart. It is mere lust and when she adds Malfoy to her body count, she’ll get him out of her system. She wonders what he’s doing right now. Wonders if that woman has _her_ lips around _his_ cock and whether he’s enjoying it as much as Matthew seems to be. 

“Fuuuuuuuck.” He cries out and then her mouth is filled with his salty cum and she thinks she’s about to puke. “Shit.” He sits up, blue eyes wide. “Sorry, I didn’t…” He looks horribly guilty. “Fuck, it was so good I couldn’t stop myself.”

She pulls away, swallowing with a grimace. Damn it. She stands, brushing wrinkles out of her dress. Thank Merlin she didn’t take it off. She wipes a few tears from her eyes and the spit from around her mouth. Just her luck.

Another O takes off from the runway and she misses the flight.

Maybe he still could… with his tongue and fingers. But he’s standing, doing up his belt and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that, Hermione. It was real nice getting to know you. Hit me up if you’re ever in New York.”

She leaves without saying goodbye. “FUCK!” She screams when she floos into her apartment. “Fucking, fucking, fuck!” She is about to hurl a picture frame at the wall when she notices a figure standing against the wall. She screams again, only in absolute fear. She reaches for her wand in her garter belt but-

It’s only Draco. “Whoa, sorry.” His hands are raised in an innocent gesture. “Didn’t mean to spook you.”

She drops her wand on the coffee table. “Oh… what are you doing here?”

He looks her over. Can he see her rumpled hair? The redness of her cheeks and eyes? Can he smell the American on her? Yes, he can. Because his form has stiffened and he looks absolutely furious, “What? Quickie with that bloke then?”

“What are you doing here?” She repeats in a smaller voice. Draco Malfoy knows where she lives. What must he think of her insignificant apartment?

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party,” He says, “Though I suppose it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re still working on that ridiculous body count project?”

“I don’t know.” She slumps down on the couch, exhausted.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He’s barely containing his anger.

“I don’t know if I’m actively doing it anymore or if it has become my life.”

He sits on the table directly in front of her, he leans forward and looks right into her eyes as he says, “Did he make you come?”

“Not even close.” She barely breathes the response. But he’s so close he can hear her clearly.

“You’re better than this rubbish, Granger.” He is watching her with something like pain or disappointment or a mixture of both. “It’s making you miserable. You think I don’t see that? You give a piece of yourself away each time and it is never worth it.”

“What do you know about any of it, Malfoy?”

He sighs deeply, “After a while, that shit grows old. Who gives a fuck about a number? What does it mean if it has no substance? Do you care more about the number of people you’ve fucked or how the fucking makes you feel? Because let me tell you, it’s not supposed to feel like this.” He waves a hand over her huddled form. He stands, “Find me when you’re done with this bullshit, Granger. Maybe I’ll show you how it should be.”

He is about to leave when she says, “What happened with that woman at the party?”

He looks over his shoulder, “I told her I was interested in someone else.” He doesn’t give her a moment to reply because he has stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in a burst of flames.

* * *

**MAY**

Harry and Ginny have returned and Hermione is all over them with hugs and kisses and happy tears. “I’ve missed you guys so much!” She cries, relieved to have her dearest friends home. “Tell me everything! How was touring the world? Which country was your favourite?”

“We’ll get into all of that, Mione.” Harry is smiling so big his face might crack. “But we have news.”

Ginny places a hand over her flat belly. “We’re expecting.”

She is on them again with more hugs. “Oh Merlin! That’s wonderful news. Congratulations.”

“What’s new with you?” Ginny asks, looking Hermione over carefully. “You’re looking a little tired.”

This is Ginny’s nice way of saying Hermione looks like shit. Draco’s heated speech last month has been in her head every single day. She can’t stop thinking about him. She hasn’t seen him since that night. Whenever she and Pansy hang out, he is never there. They don’t go to his house anymore. Pansy hasn’t said so but she has a feeling that Draco has told her to keep Hermione away.

“You aren’t still torn up about Ron, are you?” Harry is watching her with concern.

“No, no of course not. We broke up a year ago. I’ve just been busy with work and haven’t gotten much sleep.” She doesn’t know how they’d react if they found out just how Hermione had filled her year. And just who was plaguing her thoughts now. “Have you seen Ron? Is he alright?”

“He’s back with Lavender.” Ginny says gently, as if worried to reveal the truth.

She smiles, “I’m happy for them.”

Both Ginny and Harry ease. She genuinely means it. Ron deserves someone to love him and even though he and Lavender experienced a bump in the road a few months ago, they seem to have found their way back to one another again. Perhaps, he’d be willing to rekindle their friendship once more.

“We’re having a reunion with everyone at Leaky tonight, you have to come.” Ginny squeezes her hand.

* * *

Ron greets her with a shy kiss on the cheek and Lavender gives her a hug. When Hermione smiles at them, she means it. She is glad to be here tonight with Ginny and Harry, Ron and Lavender, Neville has come with Luna, Dean with Seamus, and George and Angelina. She tries not to feel like the odd one out but it’s difficult. Last year, she would’ve been at Ron’s side and their group would’ve been a perfectly harmonious circle. Now, she stands out like a sore thumb.

She drinks more than she should. Taking celebratory shots with everyone (pumpkin juice for Ginny) but also refilling her glass of gin over and over throughout the evening. She has left to use the loo while the others are mingling and being loud in their corner. She looks at herself in the mirror and wants to cry. She is so lonely. How is it that all of her friends have found love and she is perfectly alone? Draco was right, the number of people you fuck doesn’t change the way you feel.

She bumps into a hard body on the way out. “Sorry.” A male voice says and then backtracks, “Hermione?”

“Oh, hi Zacharias.” She tries to dodge him but he blocks her way.

“You’re looking good, Granger.” He says, ogling her even though she looks amess. “What are you doing here?”

“Catching up with friends.” She replies, noticing the broadness of his chest and the muscles of his arms. Screw Draco and his stupid advice. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same.” He chuckles. “Hey, can I buy you a drink?”

Hermione never particularly liked Zacharias Smith. He was a worse coward than Draco back in the day, at least Draco never pretended he was something different. But people change, and he was offering her free booze and she’d blown this month’s restaurant budget on drinks all evening. She might as well.

“Ernie tells me that the two of you got rather close last year.” He says with a suggestive leer.

She nearly grimaces remembering all three minutes of Ernie Macmillan. “Sure.” She replies dismissively. She downs her glass of gin and asks the bartender for another. Zacharias is watching her with a wide smile.

“Big drinker all of a sudden, Granger?”

“Only every other weekend.” She giggles thinking she’s being funny but wanting to cry. Her friends haven’t noticed her absence in their loved-up duos. She wonders what Malfoy is doing right now. Wonders if he ever thinks about her.

Zacharias orders her another glass of gin, taking a double shot himself. As soon as she finishes her drink, he has her hand and is helping her off the seat, “Let’s get out of here?”

She is seeing double as Zacharias leads her into the fireplace, an arm coiled tightly around her waist, and floos her away. She feels woozy and his lips are on hers before she can find her bearings. She thinks that he’ll help her forget about her misery.

His hands under her shirt feel too rigid, he isn’t being careful with her. She thinks of all the men she has allowed to touch her in this way. All the men she has allowed to use her only to receive nothing in return. She thought she was missing out with that measly body count. Now she thinks she has lost something with each conquest. She is unhappy.

Zacharias smells like alcohol and sweat and cheap cologne. He is coaxing her mouth open, thrusting his tongue inside. He tastes like liquor. “I-I don’t,” She begins to say but he shuts her up with another hard kiss. “I’m not,” He kisses her again, not interested in any of her words.

“You’ll be my little slut, Granger.” He says hotly in her ear. “I’m going to play with you all night long.”

He is leading her into a bedroom. She is stumbling, too drunk. He is yanking her jumper over her head. She is hot and cold, hot and cold. Does she want this? Does she want to go home? Does she want this? Does she want to go home?

She goes along with it for a little while, allowing him to strip her down to her underthings. Watching numbly as he yanks his own clothes off. She wonders if he’ll be another disappointment. If he’ll take more than she’s willing to offer and give her nothing in return.

He takes her hand and puts it on his cock, curling her fingers around the stiffness. “Like this, Granger.” His hand is over hers, showing her how he likes to be stroked. As if she cares. As if she wants to pleasure him.

She thinks of Draco again. What would he think if he saw her right now? How disappointed would he be? He claims to see something in her that maybe she doesn’t even see in herself. Would he be respectful? Would he treat her with care?

Zacharias gives up on the half-hearted hand job, she is too drunk and she doesn’t care. He shoves her onto the bed instead, hands on the waistband of her knickers. She freezes. No, she doesn’t want this. She knows this with clarity now. Seeing past the fog of gin she realizes that she should never have allowed Zacharias to bring her here. To hell with her body count.

“I don’t want to do this.” She says at last, pushing him back with a hard shove. She begins to sit up, reaching for her clothes but he yanks her back by the hair. She screams.

“You like it rough, Granger? Is that what you want?” He is straddling her now, holding her down beneath him.

“No, I don’t want to do this. Get off me.” Her voice is firm, she is looking directly into his eyes. Her heart is pounding too hard.

He laughs with no humour, “We’ve come too far, Granger. You can’t say no now.”

“I can say no whenever I want.” She tries to push him off but he is too strong and doesn’t budge a bit. Her wand is somewhere on the floor with the rest of her discarded clothes. “Get off!”

“You don’t excite a man and then decide to walk away. Didn’t your Muggle parents teach you any manners?”

She slaps him across the face, “Fuck you, Smith! Let me go.”

He slaps her back and she hears a ringing in her ears. “No. You started it. Now we finish.” He rips her knickers off and thrusts into her so hard she screams. The bed squeaks beneath them. He is hard and his thrusts are punishing. She smells his breath in the air. Her cheeks are wet. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead and plops onto her jawbone.

She shuts her eyes, wishing for this to be over. It’s more painful than Jordan. At least he’d used a lubrication charm. She is bone dry now and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. His sweaty body weighs down on her. His deep grunts are like explosions on her eardrums. Her cheek is throbbing and she wonders if he left a bruise. Wonders what other bruises he might have left on her body. The body that no longer belongs to her. He has taken it without permission and now she is a ghost.

He finishes in a few minutes but it feels like hours of torture. She is shaking so hard that she has to pick up her knickers twice before getting them on properly. He watches her with a wolfish grin, proud of himself. She might throw up.

She finds her wand but doesn’t bother to hex him. It would mean being in this room with him a minute longer. She finishes getting dressed and leaves without looking back. She needs Pansy. Pansy would know what to do. Pansy could make it better.

She floos to Pansy’s flat but it’s empty. She tries Blaise’s home but a house elf tells her the both of them are at Draco’s place for the evening. She almost goes home but she knows she can’t be alone. She needs Pansy.

She heads to Draco’s, hoping that he won’t be mad at her. She can’t take his temper right now. She feels like the slightest gust of wind might shatter her. She prays it’s just the three of them, dreading the thought of other company. No one else can see her like this. 

Low voices and laughter arise from the dining room. Pansy’s familiar giggle feels like a warm hug. She approaches the room with shaky legs.

“Hermione?” Pansy notices her first. “What’s wrong?” She is out of her seat and running to her. “What happened?”

A chair screeches back and a second looming presence is there. Draco tips her chin back and examines her red cheek. “Who did this?” His voice is very low.

She bursts into sobs, throwing herself into his arms because he is closer. He is stiff but holds her as she sullies his soft shirt with her mascara-stained tears. “Granger, what happened?” He demands. “Tell me.”

She pulls back, wiping madly at her face. She can’t look at him so she meets Pansy’s wide green eyes instead, “I said no. I said no and he didn’t listen. I tried to leave.” She’s nearly incoherent, unable to get the words out. “He f-forced me.”

“Who?” Draco is shaking with rage. “Tell me who.”

Pansy has her in her arms, stroking her hair, trying to calm her down.

“Who, Granger?” Draco is almost yelling.

“Shut up for a second, Draco!” Pansy cries. “Give her some space.” She leads Hermione to the sitting room a door over and settles her on the couch. She keeps an arm around her. “It’s alright, let it out. Cry it out, love.”

Hermione lies down, placing her head on Pansy’s lap. Pansy strokes her hair, murmuring softly to her. “What happened, Hermione?” Her voice is gentle, and serious. There is none of that regular wit or teasing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hermione huddles into herself, shutting her eyes because the lights are making her head hurt. She can feel his hands on her again, feel the hardness between her legs, she knows there’s a part of him still inside of her and she feels like throwing up. She bends over and hurls on the fancy, Persian rug.

A house elf appears and vanishes the mess immediately. She is handed a cool glass of water that she gulps down and promptly throws up all over again. She is sobbing once more, the bout of vomiting making her emotional. Reminding her of the misery.

They stay this way for a long time. She is in a half-sleep, unable to commit to either state. Too afraid to fall asleep, too tired to stay awake. She is trembling beneath Pansy’s soft touch. “Tell us who did this, Hermione.” Pansy says gently after a while. “Please.”

“Zacharias Smith.” She says in a raspy voice.

She hears shuffling, followed by the flames of the floo network. She is too exhausted to look up. Pansy’s fingers brushing through her curls is soothing and her eyelids feel heavy.

* * *

She wakes in a sunny room. Her throat feels like sandpaper so when she turns her head and spots a glass of water she is filled with relief. She downs the water in three solid gulps. Only when she places the glass back does she notice Draco on an armchair across the room. He is watching her with hooded eyes. She knows she must be in one of the spare rooms of his house.

“Where’s Pansy?” She asks, noticing her absence.

“She and Blaise are in another room, getting some sleep. I can go get her if you like.” He stands up to leave but she stops him.

“That’s alright, let her rest.” She knows Pansy must be exhausted from staying with her all night, comforting her until the wee hours of the morning.

Draco stalks over slowly, taking a cautious seat on the edge of the bed. His movements are very gradual, as if giving her time to tell him to back away. She doesn’t. She notices fresh bruises across his knuckles. “What happened?” She asks, staring at them.

He shifts his hand but it’s too late, she’s already seen. He sighs deeply, “Blaise and I took care of that piece of shit Hufflepuff last night.” His voice is laced with fury.

“Is he alive?” She croaks, suddenly afraid for the man that raped her in his inebriated state. Not that it excuses what he did.

“Yes.” He replies, offering nothing more. “He won’t bother you again.”

“I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.” She is staring at the wall, fingers fumbling with the soft comforter neurotically. “I probably deserved-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Granger.”

“I changed my mind.” She tells him, wanting him to know. _Needing_ him to know. “I was so drunk and I was miserable. So I let him take me home. But then I started to think… about you. And how you were right and how none of this shit means anything. And how I want it to start meaning something so I told him to stop. I wanted to leave… but he didn’t let me. He-he,”

“It’s alright, Granger.” He says, gently. “You don’t have to say more.”

She nods, grateful. “I’m sorry for dragging you and Blaise into this.”

“I’m glad you did.”

She looks up at him, meets his intense eyes. He is watching her like he wants to turn back time and prevent this from ever happening. Like he did something wrong. “I suppose with the rate I was going something like this was bound to happen.”

“Don’t say that. It’s your body, your choice. Nobody should judge you for it or expect anything from you. The only reason I said anything before was because I was jealous and angry. I _never_ wanted something like this to happen to you.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m done letting people use my body. It isn’t fun, it makes me feel disgusting.”

He takes her hand, squeezes gently. “It’s not disgusting when it’s right. I hope one day you’ll see that.” He releases her, weary to touch her for too long after everything that happened. “I’ve called for a healer to check on you, she’ll be here soon.” He stands, looking very tired. She wonders if he’s had any sleep at all.

“Thank you, Draco.”

He nods, runs a forlorn eye over her blanketed body. “I’m here if you need anything, Granger.”

* * *

**JUNE**

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.” Hermione hands Draco a new bottle of vintage wine in a sparkly bag. He hands it off to the house elf who levitates it to the pile of gifts in the drawing room. “Happy birthday.” She hasn’t seen him since last month, when he called a healer for her and left the room.

He is looking at her carefully, taking in every flicker of emotion across her face. She has left her hair wild and loose, remembering how he said he liked it. She is wearing a deep green jumpsuit that makes her feel mutually classy and beautiful.

“Green is still your colour.” He tells her, the compliment rolling off his tongue. He is in velvet black dress robes that make his platinum hair look like moonlight across a cloudless sky. The floo bursts to life and a new guest enters. Hermione walks away so that Draco can play the welcoming host.

She finds Daphne and follows her to the bar for a stiff drink. Pansy and Blaise are nowhere to be seen but she reckons they’ll appear in a short while. She mingles with coworkers and is polite to interested wizards that watch her appreciatively, but doesn’t lead any of them on. She still has nightmares about that night with Smith and doesn’t know if she’ll ever heal from that.

Draco finds her on the balcony sometime later, she hasn’t drunk much and is sipping slowly on a chilled flute of champagne. “Enjoying your birthday?” She asks.

“You never wrote.” He stands some steps away. “I wondered how you might be doing.”

He wrote to her. Told her he was thinking about her and was hoping she was coping alright. Told her to ask him if she needed anything at all. Said he missed her.

“I didn’t know what to say.” She says honestly. “I think I’m broken.”

He joins her at the balcony rails, looks out at the starlit sky. A late spring breeze drifts over them, loosening a few strands of his perfectly coiffed hair. “I don’t expect anything, you know. And if you feel broken, that’s alright too. I care about you, Granger.”

“You do?” She asks stupidly because hasn’t he proven it ten times over? But she is starved for his desire, wants to be the only person he looks at with that intense gaze. Even if she wouldn’t know what to do with it anymore.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He says knowingly.

“Since when?”

“Maybe always, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “You’re brilliant and you’re beautiful. I never allowed myself to admit it. But after you and Pansy started to hang out, I realized that maybe you weren’t so biased against Slytherins. I thought maybe you and I would have a chance. But you were busy with that… project… of yours. And it was driving me just about insane. I waited for you, you know. Wanted you to realize that you and I could be something. Didn’t want to make a move because I didn’t want to be another number on your tally sheet. I want to be the only one who has ever mattered.”

She thinks she might cry. “I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He looks at her gravely. “Why would you say that? If you tell me right now there might be a chance for us, I’ll wait. I’ll wait for as long as it takes, Granger. You’re worth waiting for.”

She is looking at him with wonder in her eyes. He’s been here this whole time and she refused to see it. Something warm is swimming in her veins, making her heart race faster. She takes a careful step towards him. Smells that midnight sky cologne he wears on special occasions. She wants to inhale him until he has become a part of her.

She places a tentative hand on his jaw, feels the softness of his freshly shaved face. His eyes flutter shut. Her hands are in his shirt and she is pulling him down to her height. She kisses him very, very carefully.

He doesn’t move, but he kisses her back. Lets her set the pace, lets her do the touching. He is pliable in her hands, moving any which way she wants. She is both grateful and disappointed. She finds his arm and brings it around her waist, he kisses her a little harder with the added encouragement.

She draws back an inch, “Can we take it slow?”

He kisses her again, like she is a dandelion and he is worried she might drift away. His lips taste like champagne and something sweet. Slowly, as they kiss over and over, she begins to melt. Relaxing into him, feeling her heart begin to calm. She knows that she is safe, that he’d never do anything to hurt her.

She kisses him on the balcony for a very, very long time. And when the night is over, he kisses her goodnight and watches her floo home.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it :) Please let me know if you would like a part 2 for Hermione/Draco to pick up after the last scene. I decided to end it there because that was the end of The Body Count project, Draco is too precious to be on a tally board. I think it would be cute to have their own moment anyway. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> x
> 
> S
> 
> Look me up on all the different platforms [here](https://linktr.ee/sodamnrad)


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